"The dog waiting at the door till somebody lets him in. His one thought
is to get in while the people's minds are not concentrated on keeping
him out. So he is sure to succeed in the end."
It is the same thing with our destiny, waiting till we open the door of
our life. Vainly do we try to keep the door tightly shut against it: we
cannot think of it all the time, and every now and then we fall into
trustfulness, and thus its hour inevitably comes, and from the opening
door it beckons to us. "What we call fatalism," M. Bergson says, "is
only the revenge of nature on man's will when the mind puts too much
strain upon the flesh or acts as if it did not exist. Orpheus, it is
true, charmed the rivers, trees and rocks away from their places with
his lyre, but the Maenades tore him to pieces in his turn."
We cannot say that the Guynemer who flew in Flanders was not the same
Guynemer who had flown over the Somme, Lorraine or Aisne battle-fields.
Indeed, his mastery was increasing with each fresh encounter, and with
his daring he cared little whether the enemy was gaining in numbers or
inventing unsuspected tactics.
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